He should not be here. Not yet, anyway. I needed more time to get my shit together, and right now, my shit was, in fact, very much not put together.

It was dusk, after all, the night giving them the clear advantage. Even he should have a challenge with that many vampires. Surely, he hadn't become so proficient at killing that he could take care of a score of vampires in their prime? 

But this was Zaydon Fucking Icarus, and he loved balancing being a cold, ruthless protector and a huge pain in my ass.

I could distinctly feel the presence of his magic nearby, confirming that he was on his way back to find me, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. Not only did I need to straighten out my feelings toward Zaydon to steer them toward hatred, but I also had to figure out what I was going to do about the predicament I found myself in. I was, after all, suffering from blood loss, paralysed from the shoulders down for now, and grappling with a vampire bite that could result in me turning into one of those parasites. And that was just the short list of my current sorry state.

My muscles felt heavy and unresponsive, as if they were sinking into the ground. I could sense Zaydon eating up the distance between us with those damn long legs of his. The stinging at my neck pulled my thoughts away from Zaydon again. I had more pressing things to worry about than that demonic gecko, and yet I couldn’t ever stop my mind from wandering to thoughts of him. Even when the situation deemed it stupid to think of him, I couldn’t help myself. I should be focused on, say, I don’t know, the possibility of dying and turning into the perfect vampire bride for a slimy, spineless, bloodsucking prince.

I nearly groaned. I was so insufferable, even just thinking to myself in my own damned head.

Honestly, I deserved whatever cocky, I-wanna-punch-your-face comment came out of Zaydon's kissable and infuriating lips. 

What? Kissable? Hells Gods, was I trapped in some kind of hellish romance novel? What am I thinking?

I hate him - well, more like I have to hate him, damn it, and here I was, still thinking about him in this dire, life-or-death situation.

This damn situation had my head spinning, but I felt like that was more the blood loss than my actual thoughts. 

Who fucking knows? I wasn’t a healer, so what the hell did I know? 

All I knew was that I had been far too careless when Prince Darrin and his score of vampire soldiers attacked us. Why couldn't I separate Zaydon from reality? I had allowed my guard to slip in the chaos, allowing myself to get swept up in thoughts of concern for his safety as we parted ways, and it had cost me dearly.

I should have just run when Zaydon told me to, but how could I? How could I run when he was clearly outnumbered, with those leeches surrounding him? His fight had taken him far away from me, his goal to lure them all away.

That plan had clearly backfired, and I probably made things worse.

It was obvious, though, that this was all premeditated and planned because Prince Darrin had waited for the perfect moment to strike. He had taken advantage of my momentary lapse in judgment, lurking in the shadows until Zaydon was far enough away. Then, with chilling precision, he attacked, sinking his fangs deep into the tender flesh of my exposed neck from behind.

I shivered at the recent memory of his sharp, pointed nails digging into the skin of my forehead, tearing it open and sending waves of stinging pain through me. He had held my head in a vice-like grip, tilting it to the side to ensure his venom had ample time to course through my veins. My skin prickled as if remembering the cold brush of his breath and the guttural grunts of satisfaction that escaped him as he consumed my blood with greedy gulps.

The memory continued to play in my mind, a mocking taunt of my failure to heed Zaydon's orders. Darrin had grinned wickedly when the paralysis from his venom began to take hold. I could almost feel the waves of satisfaction pouring over me. He had shifted his grip, securing a better hold on my limp body, then harshly tossed me down onto the unforgiving, jagged rubble beneath us, indifferent to my pain. Once he was certain I was too weak to resist, his grin turned into a wide, toothy smile. Sinister and twisted, it made him look every bit the cowardly monster I knew he was.

It was then he started tearing at my clothes, his intentions becoming horrifyingly clear. I refused to let the memory go any further, forcing myself to stop the thought in its tracks.

“Damn you, Prince Darrin,” I muttered under my breath, my voice weak but laced with venom as I shoved the fresh memory to the back of my mind. I couldn’t deal with it now.

Right now, I needed to focus on the most pressing issue: the bite he had given me. It wasn’t just a deadly wound; it was a promise of transformation and ownership. If I turned into a vampire, I would belong to him. That couldn't happen! The thought clawed at my insides. It was a dark fate, and I couldn’t think of a single way to escape it.

Prince Darrin had retreated the second he sensed Zaydon’s approach. His escape wasn’t just a retreat; it was proof he had no desire to face Zaydon in combat. That much was clear. The magic that bound Zaydon and me ensured such fights were often avoided. To me, his retreat was nothing but evidence of his unworthiness—unworthy to rule my kingdom and certainly unworthy to claim me as his eternal bride.

Yet, despite my overwhelming contempt for his cowardice, the harsh reality was undeniably unavoidable. Even if I somehow managed to cure myself before succumbing to vampirism, the damage had been done. He had left me tainted and in more ways than one. No worthy man would want me now.

As Zaydon’s form came into my limited view through the cracks of the broken skeleton of the cottage, I felt my resolve crumbling. I hated the idea of Zaydon seeing me like this—weak, vulnerable, helpless. It wasn’t just about dignity. It was about him. He had lost the right to see me like this a long time ago.

I tried to summon the strength to shield my vulnerability, but the venom coursing through me had reduced every attempt to a mere twitch of my fingers. The rest of my body remained paralysed, trapped under the cruel grip of Darrin’s venom.

Desperate to avoid dwelling on Zaydon and the impending confrontation, I forced my thoughts back to Prince Darrin. Why had he attacked us in the first place? Perhaps the vampire prince had heard whispers of the Dragon’s Bond—the spell that bound Zaydon and me together—and foolishly believed it made him vulnerable.

There was some truth to the notion. The bond had weaknesses. If Prince Darrin had done any meaningful research, though, he would have realised the only ones who could truly weaken Zaydon were the mage who cast the spell and, technically, me. The spell would hurt and cripple Zaydon only if he ever tried to kill me intentionally. That word, intentionally, was crucial. If I died by other means, the spell would break, leaving him free.

Perhaps that was Darrin’s plan. Perhaps he thought the venom would do the work for him, killing me in the process of turning me into a vampire. If I died first, the spell would be broken, and Zaydon would be left unshackled, while Prince Darrin wouldn’t have to lift a finger against him. A coward’s move, as always. If I survived this, I’d kill him myself. I'd make sure of it.

My thoughts snapped to a halt as the world around me began to blur. My body’s weakness screamed at me, reminding me that blood loss and venom was draining what little strength I had left. I tried to turn my head to gauge how far Zaydon was, but my vision wavered. The blood trickling from the gash on my head, courtesy of Darrin’s sharp nails, distorted everything. Shadows swam in the edges of my sight, and the faint light filtering through the cracks in the shattered walls became a haze.

His imposing 6'8" frame loomed larger in my distorted view, the shadow of his presence growing ever closer as my strength ebbed away.

Move! I screamed at my body, begging it to make one final, desperate effort to shield me from his gaze. I couldn’t let him see how truly vulnerable and scared I was at this moment. All he deserved was my coldness and rage.